


something in the wind, shattered in my hands

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, post-S3 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's been to the pit, but Sam's seen Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	something in the wind, shattered in my hands

**Author's Note:**

> This was entirely caused by Coo Coo by the Brian Buckley Band. If you've not listened to it -or the whole album- you should get on it, because it's pretty fantastic.

_Dean oh god come home I'm sorry I couldn't save you I'm sorry_

__

Sam's mouth moved with silent prayers, spilling alongside the tears (no screaming, yet, thank god. He didn't know if he could handle anymore screaming), getting lost in the worn cotton of one of Dean's old t-shirts. Sam'd told Bobby once, between the rambling and sobbing, that it still smelled like him -- black coffee, motor oil and bittersweet midwest wind. _Dean loved the midwest. Open roads and high speeds. Homemade pie and sweet corn, the only vegetable worth a fuck, thank you very much._

__

He watched large shoulders shudder and shake, uncontrolled and pained, between nearly incoherent _Dean_ s and _pleasepleaseplease_ s that rocked him to the core. The constant ache roared in his head and chest and _everywhere_ , never easing, never leaving; always growing each minute he sat and stared and wished for Sam to snap out of it. To open his eyes and _see_ him. To reach out and feel him there. 

 

It'd been a month. A whole month out of the pit and the nightmares weren't just in his dreams. Not only chains, hooks, fire and pain. _SamSamsaveme!_ Coming home hadn't felt like home, not finding his brother -- _family--_ huddled in a too small bed ( _This room's for you, boys. Uncle Bobby's gonna keep you safe while I'm gone),_ clutching the closest thing to Dean he could find amongst the rubble of a life he never wanted, whimpering and shaking and praying.

 

"Shh, Sammy. It's okay. I'm home," he whispered. "You gotta wake up. Need cut that hair. Startin' to look like a girl, not that you didn't before." 

 

Dean crawled up slowly behind Sam, pressing them chest to back, wrapping an arm tight around his waist and carding the other through knotted hair. Sam only shivered harder, burrowing closer to the smell of Dean etched into the shirt, _I'msorry._ "S'ok, Sammy. It's okay. Hey, remember the time Dad took us to our first baseball game? You were eight and he won tickets in a poker game. He hated it, but you-- well, you hated it, too, but you… god, Sammy, you loved those damned red, strawberry flavored slushies. Never could find 'em that good anywhere else. I think they started with a 'Z'. Zul's? You remember, Sammy?"

 

A deep breath and a tighter hold, Sam's shaking flowed through his arms, only a whisper compared the earthquake. The whimpers had calmed, the tears easing and his body losing tension, but the prayers never stopped. _Deanohgod_

 

"West Virginia. Yeah, that's where we were. Some tiny town with, I swear, three whole streets in the place, but you loved it because of those damned slushies, Sammy. I promise, when you're better, we'll go back. We'll get as many as you want, go to a game or… God, _Sammy_ , anything, just--"

 

_I'm sorry._

__

"Me, too, Sammy."


End file.
